


What If..?

by Jamie_Angel



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alive Noah Czerny, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Music, Band Fic, Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural, F/M, Julie and the phantoms - Freeform, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranormal, Paranormal Investigators, male model! ronan, mythbuster! adam, pop singer! blue, youtuber! gansey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28758372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamie_Angel/pseuds/Jamie_Angel
Summary: What if they were all famous? What if the gang met Gansey last? What if all the roles were reversed? What if they were Holmes and Watson? What if they were an adventuring party?A series of one chapter mini fics in which I explore the gangsey in different timelines - from a DND fantasy world to the very same timeline with all the roles messed up.I don't know how to sell this to you to be perfectly honest.Chapter One - famousChapter Two - paranormal investigatorsChapter Three - Julie and the Phantoms! AU
Relationships: Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	1. What if they were all famous?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pop singer! blue  
> buzzfeed unsolved style youtuber! gansey  
> mythbusters style youtuber! adam  
> male model! ronan
> 
> they get stuck in a 7-11 together. tragic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLAYLIST -  
> Pretty Girls Don't Cry (Anna Akana)  
> B.I.G (Caitlyn Scarlett)  
> When I Rule the World (LIZ)  
> Hot Mess (GIRLI)  
> Girls Get Angry Too (GIRLI)

Blue _hates_ this hotel. It’s the fanciest one her tour manager could’ve possibly booked. It’s extravagant in its minimalism. She’d never seen the point in minimalism, anyway. What are you spending all your money on if not useless clutter items? That was what her family always did.  
  
Of course, Gansey _loved_ the hotel. He said it reminded him of his family home. Blue gritted her teeth and the comparison – because it was true. The Gansey home was also lifeless and expensive.  
  
The beds were soft – like, really soft. It took them both at least half an hour to truly wake up, and that was before the other half hour of lazily traded morning kisses. And now they were getting dressed for a day of exploding – Blue with her shirt knotted at her midriff, a pair of comfy shorts and hiking boots; Gansey in what he always wore. What attracted people to his YouTube channel. The dreaded polo shirt and khakis, even if he had switched his boat shoes for hiking boots for exploring the hills.  
  
“Remember, Teya will be really mad if I miss sound check again. No exploring past 2 in the afternoon.” Blue reminded him while lacing up her boots.  
  
“With all the respect in the world, Jane,” Gansey said, voice muffled as he pulled the salmon coloured monstrosity of a shirt over his head, “I doubt Bigfoot will want to adhere to Teya’s schedules.”  
  
“Well, you can be the one to tell her that we’re late because you wanted to have a nice chat with a sasquatch.” Blue said, standing up to her full height, which wasn’t very much, and looking him in the eyes.  
  
He smiled softly, and patted her hair. “I promise we’ll be back before sound check.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek. Blue blushes, still not used to the easy affection he gives her, despite them having been married for a year, and, before that, dating since the last year of high school.  
  
Teya will go ballistic if they’re not there. But screw Teya. Blue was starting to think that she didn’t even need a tour manager, she could handle herself just fine. She’d be stressed out by all the PR work, obviously, but she would be fine. Just organising interviews and photo shoots and studio sessions and public appearances and-  
  
Ok, maybe she did need Teya.  
  
Gansey swung his bag of equipment over his shoulder. They headed out of the swanky hotel room at twenty minutes till eleven in the morning. Gansey had started his YouTube channel when they were just out of high school, when they were exploring rural Virginia in search of a long dead Welsh king. At the time, Blue was too shy to be on film, so she’d hold the camera or stay behind.  
  
When her career took off, after her single When I Rule the World made it into the top 10, everyone thought Gansey to be some kind of fan, because he always played her music in his outro, and he would talk about her constantly, especially after her first studio album, Fast Car, came out.  
  
But once she had gotten used to being on camera – because she was constantly being recorded, whether it be for album photos or music videos – she started appearing every now and then. Commenting from behind the camera; turning the camera toward her deadpan expression when Gansey said something stupid; holding the camera as though it were a vlog and teasing him for trying to find Mothman.

  
People went wild. There were comments along the lines of: _I’m screaming I can’t believe he’s actually friends with BLUE! I’m so jealous._  
  
They had gone to the MTV music awards together, where they confirmed that they were dating with a kiss when Blue won. Years later people started to notice the ring on Blue’s finger when they got engaged, and the marriage rings when they got married without telling anyone.  
  
Blue and Gansey got into the elevator. It must’ve been the size of the living room in Fox Way. Homesickness twisted in her gut. Most of the money she gained touring and from her music, she gave to her home and to charities. But it could never stop her missing them, though.  
  
They reached the ground floor of the hotel and out onto the street easily, the people at the reception put at ease by Gansey’s charming smile, despite the glares Blue was sending out.  
  
“Ah, fresh air.” Gansey said as soon as they made it past the rotating glass doors.  
  
“It’s the city. The air here is that polluted you might as well be breathing straight from a car exhaust.” She told him, affectionately though. They both waited as the valet fetched Gansey’s absolutely horrible car, a lurid orange Camaro that broke down every five miles, nicknamed the Pig.  
  
“Should we stop off at a 7-11 and get some snacks?” Gansey asks as the valet driver comes round the corner with the Pig, trying to distract himself from the worry of someone else driving his precious car.  
  
“For Bigfoot?”  
  
“Of course. But also for us. We can get those yogurt covered cranberries you like.” He said, and then smiled at the driver, who handed him his keys. They both slid into the Camaro, as familiar with it as they were with their own skin.  
  
“They never have those.” Blue said, waving a hand as she clicked in her seatbelt.  
  
“They will this time.” Gansey promised. “I can feel it.”  
  
Blue rolled her eyes but smiled. “You and your feelings.”  
  
___  
  
Ronan fucking _hated_ convenience stores. They weren’t even that convenient. He and Adam had to drive a mile out of the way to find it, just because they forgot to bring water before going up into the hills. 7-11 always smelled like the spilled soda that stuck his shoes to the linoleum, and the hum and the fridges made him want to blow his own brains out. It was also, inexplicably where he got recognised most. Apparently there was just something about the fluorescent fucking lights that made everyone go _wait aren’t you that model_?  
  
Adam immediately picked up the cheapest litre of water they had – he’d never get used to having money, and always treated it as if it might fall out of his grasp any second – and made his way to the check out. Good, Ronan didn’t want to spend another minute in this shitty place.  
  
He briefly saw a guy holding up two bags of chips for a girl to choose between in one of the aisles they passed.  
  
There was no one at the cash register.  
  
Ronan leaned over the counter, and said, “Uh, the fuck?”  
  
Adam watched him warily, and then yanked him back by the hem of his t-shirt when he leaned too far. “Did you see anyone?”  
  
“Whole lot of fucking nothing.” Ronan replied, crossing his arms.  
  
Adam pursed his lips. “Then I suppose we wait?”  
  
“Or we could just leave.” Ronan said, striding to the door and pulling. The door didn’t budge. He pushed. The door didn’t budge. “Great. It’s locked.”  
  
Adam made a pained face. “Then we _have_ to wait.”  
  
“What did you say?” Asked another voice. Ronan looked down. And _down_. Eventually, he looked at an absolutely _tiny_ woman, who looked vaguely familiar, although he couldn’t actually place where he’d seen before.  
  
“Doors locked.” He grunted, turning back to Adam. Adam wasn’t looking at Ronan, though; he was staring at the boy who had been with the girl in the aisle beforehand. When Ronan looked closer, he recognised the gaudy polo shirt, the impeccable hair, the hazel eyes. This was the guy that Adam did exposés on all the time.  
  
All Ronan knew was that this guy sometimes went around the world and tried to hunt mysterious creatures, and sometimes he’d sit in his room and discuss old myths and legends. Ronan turned back to the girl, and pegged where he’d seen her. She sometimes appeared in the guy’s videos – but her voice, he knew her voice better. She was a pop singer.  
  
Adam had watched enough of his videos that Ronan knew their faces. Adam did videos picking faults in the previously mentioned myths and legends. He had gone to the woods and picked holes in the monster hunting videos. They had come to this town to do that very thing. Ronan wondered, briefly, if that was what these people had come to do as well.  
  
The girl’s expression tightened as if she had caught on to the fact that Ronan had caught on.  
  
“Gansey.” The girl says, “Isn’t that the guy who does those videos on you?”  
  
Adam had the decency to look ashamed. Ronan didn’t. He said, “What’s it to you, shortstack?”  
  
The girls eyes flared open and her entire demeanour changed from curious to hostile in a second, like a predator who had become aware of another predator. With venom, she asked. “And who are you?”  
  
“Ronan Lynch.” He all but snarled back.  
  
She turned her head, a dismissal. Ronan clenched his teeth.  
  
Gansey, which was the guys name, apparently, said, “Well that doesn’t matter now. We’re all locked in here together.”  
  
Adam pursed his lips. “Yes, apparently so.”  
  
___  
  
It had been nearly half an hour, and they’d just... stayed in the 7-11. Blue kept getting up to routinely try it again, and then would kick her thick-soled hiking boots against the frame when it wouldn’t give.  
  
Unhelpfully, Ronan suggested, “Just break the glass.”  
  
“And then we all get arrested for breaking public property? No thanks, asshole.” She responded with no bite.  
  
She joined them where they had all slumped against the empty check out. The radio was a dim blur in the background. The song they were playing turned off, and the hostesses smooth voice said “That was Die Young by Max Frost. Up next, we have one of my current favourite songs at the moment. It’s Hot Mess by BLUE!”  
  
A guitar line starts to play through the speakers. The girl, whose name Ronan had learned was _actually_ Blue, not just some stage name, groaned and put her head in her hands.  
  
Ronan had heard the song before, of course. It was always playing on his favourite radio station. This time, however, he actually tried to pay attention to the lyrics, since he had the _honour_ of sitting in the songwriters presence.  
  
The start of the song is fairly muted, but then she actually starts to sing.  
  
_Walk into the room with my skirt tucked into my shoes  
  
I skated here, I’m sweating, had a good day how ‘bout you  
  
Let’s talk about things, Dan, game plan  
  
Hey Stan why’re you talking over me?  
  
Chatting sh*t I’m not a kid, well this is patronising  
  
_The radio station have put a rather obvious censor of the word over the word shit. It makes Ronan smile to see Blue tuck her head in-between her knees and groan lengthily.  
  
_Then you explain how you studied this at Uni so you’d know  
  
More about the thing that paid for my phone  
  
Why don’t you make it a hat trick and comment on my look  
  
Like, “Bit outlandish love but, you know, don’t judge a book.”  
  
_If he was going to be entirely honest, he’d admit he liked the song. It was a good song, and the lyrics told nothing but truth. Women were subject to constant low-level misogyny. It was enough for anyone to get annoyed enough to write a pointed song about he fact.  
  
_I don’t know who you think I am  
  
But your girl is not one  
  
I’m good at what I do  
  
And don’t let anyone  
  
Tell me that your song’s ok  
  
But sweetie did you know, a couple changes here and there would make it super cool  
  
_He zoned out for the rest of the song. He barely takes in the lyrics, only remembering the second verse where Blue seemingly stopped the recording to make bitchy comments about herself, before the music resumed. He entirely forgot about the bridge where she acted all innocent and typically feminine.  
  
He wanted to hold Adam’s hand, but he didn’t know if Adam was willing to be outed to these strangers. He looked into Adam’s soberingly blue eyes and hoped his message was conveyed. It must’ve been, because Adam took Ronan’s hand and leaned his shoulder onto where his tattoo rose to his hairline.  
  
Blue asked, “What’s it like being a model?”  
  
“Why the fuck do you want to know?”  
  
She shrugged, “I know what it’s like to be in the limelight. I was just wondering about the difference between our two professions.”  
  
“Then you tell us what its like to be a _super famous pop singer_.”  
  
She ignored his obvious jab. “It’s a lot of writing, actually. Autographs, and songs and writing about why you wrote those songs. You have no private life. One time, this super creepy interviewer kept asking me why I didn’t show more leg when I was performing.”  
  
“And what did you say?” Ronan asked, genuinely curious, though he’d never admit it.  
  
Blue smiled. It was a smile not unlike his own, sharp and wicked. “I told him to go back to the prehistoric cave he crawled out of.”  
  
Gansey’s lips twitched upwards. “Teya was so mad at you for that.”  
  
“Worth it.” She turned to Ronan. “Your turn, asshole.”  
  
“I get put in clothes I don’t like. I sneer at a camera. I stand until my feet bleed. I take my shirt off.” He said bluntly.  
  
Blue nodded. Gansey said, “Was it you on that perfume advert a couple of years ago?”  
  
Ronan ground his teeth together audibly, “Yeah.”  
  
Gansey nodded. Blue nodded. Adam said, to Gansey, “Do you actually believe the stuff you say in your videos? About Mothman and Glendower and everything?”  
  
Gansey blinked. The question clearly confused him, because his eyebrows pulled down and he said, “Of course I do. Do you really not believe in it?”  
  
“I’d like it to be real, it just doesn’t seem to be probable.” Which was why Adam always said his videos were purely theoretical. _If_ Glendower was brought to Virginia. _If_ that woman really fought Mothman for her baby. _If_ there was a Loch Ness monster.  
  
“Anything can be real if you truly want it to be.” Gansey said, and he looked like he meant it.  
  
“I’m not one to delude myself.” Adam said.  
  
Ronan made a fake gagging sound to distract from the line of questions that were sure to come from that last statement. “Jesus fucking Christ, you done with inspiring bullshit yet?”  
  
Blue snorted. “He does it all the time.” But she had this sappy as shit smile on her face, and she dropped her tiny little head onto Gansey’s broad shoulder.  
  
___  
  
They aren’t half-bad, Adam and Ronan. Blue thought so, anyway. Sure, Ronan is surly and aggressive and he has the whole _skin-and-bone-and-black-ink_ thing going on, but Blue’s been exposed to enough shitty men to spot one when she sees them. Ronan isn’t shitty in the way she meant. And, putting aside the slating reviews, Adam is kind and relatively peaceful looking.  
  
“Oh my god.” Said an entirely new voice. Blue looked up to see a pink-haired teenager standing over the check out, cheeks blazing. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”  
  
Ronan got to his feet first, offering a hand to Adam, who accepted it. “Well there’s four of us. You lock us in here on purpose.”  
  
The teen flushed right up to their hairline. “No, I’m so sorry sir. I’ll unlock the door right away.”  
  
Blue and Gansey got to their feet as well, waiting idly as the teen used a set of clunky keys to open the glass doors. They retreated back to behind the check out. Ronan stretched out like a cat, the tattoo peeking out from under the neck line of his tank top rippling as he cracked his neck this way and that, while Adam paid for a litre of water.  
  
Once the water was paid for, they went outside. Ronan slung his arm over Adam’s shoulders. Adam shook his head with a smile on his lips and leaned in to kiss Ronan. Blue looked away, not wanting to intrude on their clearly intimate moment.  
  
Gansey paid for their snacks, and, on her insistence, gave the clearly over worked teenager an extra five dollars.  
  
When they finally left the dreaded 7-11, Adam and Ronan were still standing on sidewalk. They appeared to be deep in conversation. Ronan kept shooting them hostile glances.  
  
Swinging the carrier bag around her wrist – she had already complained about single use plastics – Blue made her way to the Camaro, flinging the bag into the backseat along with Gansey’s recording equipment, bundles of maps and old receipts.  
  
Just before she got into the car, she heard Adam’s voice call across the parking lot. “Are you going up into the mountains?”  
  
Gansey turned toward Adam, who was standing at the hood of a shark-like BMW. There was no question of who owned it, if the smile of the car matched the smile of the owner. Gansey responded, “We are, actually.”  
  
“Meet you there?”  
  
“The first one to Bigfoot wins.”  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have any suggestions you can leave them like a babe at my doorstep


	2. What if they were all paranormal investigators? (and bad at it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> buzzfeed unsolved! Gangsey
> 
> this is literally just the goatman episode of buzzfeed unsolved because I've watched it that many times I have it memorised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLAYLIST-  
> Ghost Adventure Spirit Orb (chloe moriando)  
> R.I.F.P (Mothica)  
> 1980s Horror Film (Wallows)  
> Sugar Pills (I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME)  
> Bad Girls (M.I.A)

“So, this is the famous Goatman’s bridge.” Gansey said, placing one foot on the edge. “Some horrible things occurred right here.”  
  
“Way to be vague, man.” Ronan said, not hesitating in the slightest as he stepped on to the bridge. “Please, tell me what the fuck happened.”  
  
Gansey explained. “In the late 1800s, Old Alton Bridge was built to connect Alton to Denton.”  
  
“Fascinating.” Blue said as she peered over the side of the bridge.  
  
“Well, because Alton was a town that consisted of one person-”  
  
“I don’t think that constitutes as a town.” Noah interrupted pleasantly. “That’s just, like, a house in the woods.”  
  
Adam shined his torch into the deep woods either side of them. “A town is technically just a human settlement.”  
  
“No one knows why this bridge wasn’t torn down with Alton town. Or why the demon seemingly inhabits here.”  
  
Ronan twirled his water gun around his finger. “I _wish_ a demon inhabited here. That’d be pretty fucking sick.”  
  
Blue snorted and plucked the gun from Ronan’s hand, pretending to shoot him with it. “What if you’ve been the demon this _whole time_?”  
  
Ronan put a hand to his chest in mock affront. “How dare you, I am a good, Catholic man.”  
  
Adam said, hald-laughing, “If I didn’t know you, I’d assume you’re lying.”  
  
“Good thing I never lie.”  
  
“Anyway,” Gansey interrupted, looking pained. “The bridge is apparently a portal to another, more hellish, realm. The Goatman supposedly has glowing eyes and goat horns.”  
  
“Really?” Ronan said. “I would’ve thought it had rams horns, you know, with it being called _Goat_ man.”  
  
“Sarcasm walks the line of honesty and lies.” Gansey said, and then continued. “There are a lot of different tales saying how the Goatman came to live here. I don’t know which one is truth. Some say that Satanists carried out rituals here. There’s a good amount of evidence for that one.”  
  
“Gansey, please explain how we’re any better than Satanists right now.” Noah said.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I mean, we believe the same stuff they believe. Us and the Satanists are two sides of the same demon-loving coin.”  
  
“It’s not the same.” Gansey argued. Noah raised an eyebrow, and Gansey let the subject drop with a sigh, knowing he wasn’t going to convince any of the otherwise. “Another theory is that a successful goat farmer was hung on the bridge, and returned from the dead as the Goatman. I looked into this, and I couldn’t find any trace of this farmer even existing.”  
  
“So it’s impossible?” Adam asked.  
  
“Yes, especially since demons are supernatural beings. They’re completely different to humans in every way.”  
  
“So what happens if we do make contact with this demon then?” Blue asked distractedly. “Do we ask him how he came to be?”  
  
“We’re just trying to prove he exists, Jane.”  
  
“How do you know they’re male if no one has ever made contact with them? How do you know if its a Goat _man_ at all?” Blue said, scowling at Gansey.  
  
He opened his mouth to say something, and inadvertently make the situation worse, no doubt, when Adam said in a clear voice that rung across the bridge with clarity, “Are there any demons here with us tonight?”  
  
Ronan said, “Yeah, any horny boys are whatever?”  
  
Incredulously, Noah asked, “Horny boys?”  
  
“They’ve got horns.” Ronan answered, shrugging.  
  
“Jesus Christ, man.”  
  
Adam said, to the bridge and any entities on it. “Let your presence be known.”  
  
Silence. Well, apart from the ominous rustle of trees and the hooting on owls. No demonic voice made itself known.  
  
Softly, Blue asked, “Why are you on this bridge?”  
  
More silence.   
  
Gansey turned to Ronan. “You ask it questions.”  
  
“Why me?” Ronan asked, but before Gansey could answer he said, “I’m going to try and piss it off.”  
  
“You do what you have to do.”  
  
“Fuck you, Goatman!”  
  
Blue let out a peel of laughter so loud it scared the birds out of the nearby trees. “Holy shit, man.”  
  
“I thought you would at least build your way up subtly.” Gansey said, dumbstruck.  
  
“This is _Ronan_ we’re talking about.” Adam had a smile playing on the corner of his lips. “He’s anything but subtle.”  
  
“Why build up?” Ronan did a little dance on the spot, making Blue laugh even more. “Goatman, I’m dancing on your bridge. It’s my bridge now.”  
  
Gansey let his head fall into his hands, exasperated.  
  
“If you want me off this bridge, you’re going to have to kill me! You’re going to have to throw me off this bridge yourself.”  
  
Into his hands, Gansey mumbled, “It did do that once.”  
  
Blue yelled into the open evening, “Look at the way he dances on your bridge, he’s disrespects your bridge Goatman!”  
  
Ronan cackled. The sound echoed off the trees. “You hear that bitch boy? Me and Blue Sargent own your bridge now.”  
  
“Oh, Jesus-” Adam sighed, but he was grinning in a fond way.  
  
“Oh, Goatman.” Ronan taunted. “They’re going to put my name in graffiti! Children will come here and tell tales of me!”  
  
___  
  
“Ok, Goatman.” Adam said, facing the railing. “It’s said that knocking three times on the bridge will open up a line of communication. I’m going to knock on your bridge.”  
  
He waited a few seconds, just to make sure that no snarling voice was going to drag him off the edge. Then, he rapped his knuckles three times on the rusted metal.  
  
Nothing happened. It wasn’t really surprising.  
  
“Blue?”   
  
She stepped forward and said, “Hey Goatman? Where are you. I want to see you.” And knocked three times in quick succession.  
  
Conversationally, she continued. “If you want me off your bridge you’re going to have to kill me.”  
  
Nothing happened. Yet again, this surprised no one, but it did slightly disappoint Gansey, if his crumpled features were anything to go by.  
  
“Ok,” he said, “Let’s go into the woods.”  
  
“We’ll be back, Goatman.” Ronan threatened as he walked backwards off the bridge. “After all, this is our bridge now.”  
  
They all walked off the bridge. Ronan laughed as Blue nearly tripped off the end of it, even when he caught her. She shoved him roughly in retaliation, sending him careening into Adam.  
  
Gansey, seemingly oblivious to their antics, said, “There are reports of a lot of strange things happening around here. Odd lights, apparitions, that sort of stuff. One account even said they heard a woman’s laughter.”  
  
“Hello?” Noah called out. His voice bounced back at him from the trees.  
  
“People usually feel overcome with strong, violent emotions in here.” Gansey warned.  
  
“You’re not about to bring a rock down on my head, are you?” Blue asked.  
  
“No. Not yet, at least.”  
  
“Well, it’d be nice to know if you start to feel murder-y. Give me a heads up or something.”   
  
They continued walking into the woods, leaves crunching under their boots. Gansey told them that, “People have found animal remains here, in what could be evidence of sacrificial rituals.”  
  
“Ah, those goddamn Satanists.” Noah cursed.  
  
“There was that guy at the local pet store.” Adam said as he shone his torch into the leaves above them. “He said they had to stop selling cats because they were just getting sacrificed.”  
  
Blue made a face. “That’s horrible.”  
  
Ronan, who was a few steps in front of them, called out. “Are there any fucking Satanists out here?”  
  
Noah joined in, calling out, “Anyone murdering a cat right now?”  
  
They continued on. Blue said, “What if we made it seem like we’re in on it?”  
  
“What?” Gansey asked, voice quiet.  
  
Blue called out, “Uh, we’re here for the cult stuff. We saw the ad on Craigslist.”  
  
Adam directed the torches light to a bundle of shrubbery. “What if they were hiding in the bushes?”  
  
“They _are_ cultists.” Gansey said.  
  
They all ventured further into the tangle of branches and leaves. Noah asked, “Is anyone out here? Who are you? Put that cat down! Take your cloak off!”  
  
Ronan added, “If you’re here for Goatman, we kicked him off his bridge.”  
  
Adam said, “Well, if Goatman is in the woods then he’s not on his bridge. That’ll be why you’ve taken control of it.”  
  
Gansey said, “Finders, keepers.”  
  
There was a snap behind them and they all whirled. Blue yelled, “If there are cultists out here, just know that my friends got a water gun, and he _will_ shoot you.”  
  
Ronan snorted and said, “It’s holy water, you demonic fuckers.”  
  
“The demons and spirits that live in these woods are supposed to be incredibly physical with whoever encounters them.”  
  
Ronan raised an eyebrow. “Physical?”  
  
“You mean I can get a demon boyfriend?” Noah asked.  
  
“Not- not that kind of physical.” Gansey said, thankful that the darkness disguised the slight flush that had come to his cheeks. “People have reported being thrown, dragged, and struck. On many occasions, people have said that they had three scratch marks, which is a way for the demons to mock the holy trinity.  
  
Ronan raised his other eyebrow, “Well, that’s rude of them.”  
  
“And, like I said before, people also feel strong violent feelings.” They all started moving through the woods again, satisfied that no Satanists were going to try and sacrifice them to Goatman. “In one case, an woman envisioned murdering her entire team of investigators.”  
  
Adam said, “Please don’t murder us, Gansey. No one will find the bodies.”  
  
Gansey ignored this and reached for the spirit box in his pocket.  
  
“I fucking hate that thing.” Ronan complained.  
  
Gansey ignored this. “Let’s see if the demon will communicate through this.” To the spirit box, he asked. “Is there anyone here with us?”  
  
Nothing but brain-numbing white noise.  
  
Adam asked, “Is there a Goatman out here?”  
  
The spirit box carried on as it was for a moment. Then it made some horrible noise that wasn’t a fully formed word, but it also wasn’t the spirit box’s usual wailing, either.  
  
“The fuck was that?” Rona asked, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
“Sounded like a demon.” Blue said pleasantly, leaning in closer. “Is there a demon here? Can you speak with us?”  
  
The spirit box skipped over a few radio channels, playing classical music for a half a second.  
  
Noah said, “Say your name.”  
  
And the spirit box said _Goatman_.  
  
Gansey froze, an excited look in his eyes. “That sounded like Goatman.”  
  
___  
  
“This is some serious Fox Way shit.” Ronan complained, folding his long legs underneath him.  
  
“We never communicate with the dead at home.” Blue said, blowing out the match she used to light the little tea lights encircling the five of them. “They’re psychics, not idiots.”  
  
Gansey, who was drawing a circle around them with salt, said, “Using Ouija boards isn’t a game.”  
  
“They _do_ sell them at Toys ‘R Us.” Adam said.  
  
Gansey waved his comment off and sat down in the circle, lightly resting two of his fingers on the planchette. The rest of them followed suit.  
  
Blue frowned. “Why do I feel like I’m at a horror movie sleepover right now?”  
  
“Maybe that’s because I’m about to murder you, Maggot.” Ronan said.  
  
Gansey said.”My names Gansey.”  
  
They spelt his name out using the planchette and the board. They copied the process for all of them.  
  
R-O-N-A-N.  
  
B-L-U-E.  
  
N-O-A-H.   
  
A-D-A-M.  
  
Gansey asked, “Is there anyone around us?”  
  
Noah said. “You put salt around us. Doesn’t that mean Goatman can’t get to the board?”  
  
“It would’ve trapped him in with us.”  
  
“I don’t think there’s room for him in here.” Ronan interjected, looking pointedly at Adam’s leg, which was half in his lap.  
  
“What is Goatman was outside when you did the salt circle?” Adam supplied, unhelpfully.  
  
Gansey sighed. “Jane, could you blow some of the salt away?”  
  
Blue did so, and then said. “There’s your front door, dude. Come on in.”  
  
She put her hands back on the planchette. Gansey asked. “What’s your name?”  
  
And the planchette _moved_ under their fingers. It was only slight, and then it stopped on the _G_. They all waited for a minute. Ronan seemingly got bored of waiting, because he said. “Hey, you demon fuck.”  
  
“Jesus.” Gansey said. “Dropped all the decorum, didn’t you.”  
  
Adam laughed and said. “What did you expect? It’s Ronan.”  
  
“Goof to know you have such faith in me, Parrish. I wanted to catch Goatman off guard.”  
  
“Well,” Noah said, leaning into see the board better. “We got a G.”  
  
“Hey, Goatman.” Blue said to the void that was the night. “If you can’t spell your name, this bridge belongs to me and Ronan. They’ll come here and tell legends of _us._ ”  
  
“They’ll come here and talk about dreams and trees.” Ronan added.   
  
The planchette moved toward the _O_.   
  
“This is your last chance, demon.” Gansey said. “If you’re here with us, tell us your name.”  
  
“You know the deal.” Blue tacked on at the end of his little speech.  
  
“Yes, I suppose that if you don’t spell your name, the bridge will belong to Ronan and Jane. You know what, to hell with it, if you don’t answer, the bridge will belong to all of us.”  
  
“It’s our bridge.” Blue said delightedly.  
  
Nothing happened. Ronan laughed, bright and carefree, “Fuck yeah, its our bridge now.”  
  
He started to get up. Adam tugged him back down by the hem of his tee. “We still have to close it.”  
  
“Oh, right.”  
  
They all spelled out the word _Goodbye._ They all blew out the candles, save for one, which Ronan took in his hands.  
  
“As we snuff this candle, so too do we snuff you from this mortal world.” He blew out the candle. “You fucking wimp.”  
  



	3. What if they were in a ghost band?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Julie and the Phantoms AU because I watched it all in two days and got insanely attached to the characters
> 
> ghost bassist! Ronan  
> alive singer! Noah  
> ghost drummer! Blue  
> ghost pianist! Gansey  
> ghost guitarist! Adam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> watch Julie and the phantoms this is a threat
> 
> PLAYLIST  
> -Mad IQs by I DON'T KNOW HOW BU THEY FOUND ME  
> -Now or Never by the Julie and the Phantoms cast  
> -Angeleyes by ABBA  
> -She Likes Girls by Metro Station  
> -When I Grow Up by The Pussycat Dolls

Realistically, Noah knows that they’re dead.  
  
He knows this because only he can see them, they can just teleport in and out of places, and they aren’t inhibited by such silly things as solid walls.   
  
Then again, just because they’re dead doesn’t mean they can’t be his friends.  
  
___  
  
The way they met was a funny story, in hindsight. He was going through some of his mom’s old stuff, ready to move it out of the studio so they could move, when he stumbled across an old demo CD from a band named _Greywaren_. Needing something to remind him of his mom, he put it in the CD player and sat down to listen.  
  
The music was good. Noah closed his eyes. Something thumped onto the floor.  
  
The very next thing he knew, there were four ghosts in his moms studio. He hadn’t known whether to scream, cry or get himself checked in to the nearest mental hospital. He blinked. One of the sneered and slapped the other on the arm, pointing to Noah.   
  
“What are you doing here?” He had said. Not the most intelligent thing, sure, but it gets straight to the point.  
  
The only girl took a few steps toward him. Noah shied away, though she couldn’t have been more than 5 foot. She ignored his question to ask one of her own. “What year is it?”  
  
“Year? We were in that room for like an hour, Maggot.” One of the other voices said behind her.   
  
She waved him off and repeated her question to Noah.  
  
“2020.” Noah answered. He tried to relax enough to actually _look_ at the ghosts. To be fair to them, they looked like they came straight from the nineties. The girl had this whole _Princess Julia_ look going on – chequered pants held up with a thick belt and decorated with half a dozen jean chains, a long sleeve underneath a crop top, and a pair of boots that looked like they could stomp his head in.  
  
“2020?” Another ghost had asked. “That’s impossible. It was 1995 an hour ago.”  
  
“Last time I checked, 1995 was twenty five years ago.” Noah said.   
  
Yes, it had taken them all a while to catch on to the idea that they had been dead for nearly thirty years. But that had given chance to study them closely. The one that had sneered at him had a buzzcut, a tank top, ripped jeans and similar boots to the girl. A tattoo dragged itself up from his back to sink into his neck. The one who had said that 1995 was an hour ago wore a ratty old coca-cola t-shirt and jeans. Strangely, the last one was the worse dressed, in a lavender polo shirt and khaki shorts, and truly _horrible_ boat shoes.   
  
None of them looked like they were dressed for the same occasion. The girl looked like she was going to protest and make a social statement about the government. Tattoo Boy looked like he was going to go commit felonies under the cover of darkness. Coca-cola t-shirt looked like he was going to lounge around the house. Boat Shoes looked like... Noah couldn’t even tell where he was going; just that he was _definitely_ rich. Only rich people had the audacity to dress that badly.   
  
“Can I ask a question?” Noah asked, interrupting their discussion. “Well two, actually. Who are you, and what are you doing in my mom’s studio?”  
  
“Hey, this is our studio.” The girl said.  
  
“Twenty five years ago, maybe.”  
  
Boat Shoes put his hand on the girls shoulder. When he spoke, it was to Noah. He had the kind of voice that politicians would kill for, smooth and calming. “I’m Gansey.” The he gestured to Tattoo Boy, the girl and Coca-Cola shirt respectively, “This is Ronan, Blue and Adam. As for what we’re doing in the studio, I don’t know.”  
  
Noah considered this. Then he said, “Well, my names Noah.”  
  
___  
  
Ronan plucked at his bass strings with no real care. The studded leather strap had twisted until the studs pressed into his back, which had to be uncomfortable. If it was, he didn’t show.   
  
Blue scribbled something down in her already scribbled-in notebook, then showed it to Gansey. He took the book from her hands and read something. Then he said, “I can’t help but think that that lyric is a dig at me.”  
  
“Don’t be silly.” She said, taking the books back. “I hate _all_ politicians. You aren’t the only one with a colonial tongue.”  
  
“Rude.” Noah said, but he was already on his feet so she could show him as well. The lyrics were pretty good. Noah hummed them out, and Blue nodded.   
  
“Do you think it’s good enough for the Orpheum?” She asked.  
  
The jolts hit them a second later. They started having them after they all went to this creepy ghost club with an even creepier guy who tried to make them join the house band, and then gave them this stamp which would slowly kill them (again) until they were destroyed forever, or relented and joined the band.   
  
They all double over as a surge of purple light flashes from inside the chest. Adam drops to his knees, clutching onto Ronan’s arm for support. Blue lets out a small shriek. The jolt goes as quickly as it comes, and then there all righting themselves.   
  
“I hope so.” Noah says. If playing the Orpheum isn’t their unfinished business, Noah doesn’t know what he’ll do. Cry, probably. Never play music again, possibly. Cry some more, maybe.   
  
Blue rolls her shoulders back and cracks her neck as if the jolt merely made her a little stiff. She acts like it didn’t just try to destroy her. “Alright, gang, let’s get practicing.”  
  
“Never call us a gang again.” Ronan snarled, but he was already on his feet, trying to fix his bass strap.   
  
“You also said not to call us Noah and the Phantoms, but here we are.” Blue said as she settled herself behind the drums, giving an experimental twirl of her drumsticks.  
  
“Oh, fuck off, Sargent.”  
  
Adam smiles as he tunes his guitar. He plays melody, so every string needs to be _perfect_ or the entire song will be off. He doesn’t look up as he says, “But what if our unfinished business _isn’t_ at the Orpheum?”  
  
Gansey sits down at his keyboard. Apparently, he was raised to play the grand piano in his fancy mansion, but found keyboard worked better with the band. “We can’t think that way.”  
  
Noah adjusts his microphone, which had somehow gotten shorter, probably Ronan’s doing. “Everyone ready?”  
  
Everyone takes their places.   
  
Noah starts to sing, his heart a mess of emotions. What if they did pass on? What if they didn’t, and were stuck in a evil ghost club forever? He didn’t know what he wanted – no, actually, he did. He wanted them to pass on, if they had to. They were his friends, he wanted them to have the best life – afterlife, technically – that they could.  
  
___  
  
Noah and The Phantoms was nothing without the aforementioned Phantoms. They weren’t here – here being the Orpheum – and it was starting to worry the aforementioned Noah. He paced back and forth in his dressing room, the light catching on the glitter on his left cheekbones every once and a while.  
  
What happened if they had run out of time, disappeared or joined Greenmantle’s club? His stomach twisted into knots. He’d have to perform alone. The audience wouldn’t like it – the big thing about Noah and the Phantoms was the band actually appearing. Everyone thought they were holograms, maybe he could claim ignorance and say that the projector stopped working.   
  
There was a knock on the door. Unable to keep the nerves from his voice, Noah called, “Come in!”  
  
The assistant stuck his head through the door, eyes snagging on the too-big flannel, the ripped jeans, the rings on his fingers. He was fully dedicated to the skater boy aesthetic. “You’re on. Is tech sure about the projector?”  
  
“I made it myself. It _should_ work.” Lies, lies, lies  
  
The assistant smiled encouragingly, opening the door wide in an inclination for Noah to follow him out. Noah did so, feeling sicker and sicker by the minute. God, what would happen to the bands reputation if the ghosts didn’t show up? Even worse, what if it _had_ been too late, and he hadn’t gotten to say goodbye? He got the odd urge to suck his thumb for comfort, the way he would when he was a kid.  
  
The crowd was chattering amongst themselves. He waited in the wings, peeking out only once to see if he could see his father and his sister, Adele, among the faces, but it had made him feel even more ill, so he resorted to staring at the lone microphone stand, set centre stage.   
  
The assistant patted him on the arm. “It’s time. You’ll do great.”  
  
Noah swallowed down the urge to say _I don’t even have my band with me_ and instead walked out onto the stage. All talking stopped while he slid his microphone, a white one covered in doodles of skateboards and ghosts and little symbols, into the stand.   
  
“Hi.” Jesus, this is awkward. “I’m Noah. This song is called Mad IQ’s. It’s dedicated to... four really special people, who helped me get back into music.”  
  
He let people get their smattering of applause out of the way. Then he start to sing.  
  
 _Oh, you will never, ever stop me  
  
‘Cause I’m never gonna quit  
  
Gonna get just what I want  
  
And I’m gonna get it quick  
  
_He hadn’t seen the phantoms at all before the show. Surely, if they were going to turn up, they would say something, right? What if the jolts got them and Noah was here worrying about the _Orpheum_ while his friends had just been destroyed. He had to wrestle his emotions into check to stop his voice from cracking.  
  
 _Lose yourself inside the city  
  
Lose your mind inside a week  
  
You can lose all your money  
  
You can find enough to sleep  
  
_He fully braced himself for the pre-chorus to be the same as the verse, but the audience ooohed, and a gentle drum beat started behind him. He thought that maybe he would die, because his heart burst into a million pieces of light. He slid his microphone out of its stand and faced Blue. Her appearance shocked him, to say the least. The 70s punk look was gone, replaced with a black evening gown emblazoned with diamonds that looked like stars. She had clearly kicked off a pair of heeled shoes to play the drums. Her hair, instead of being in its usual clipped-back mess, fell across her face in smooth, delicate waves.  
  
 _In this world, to survive  
  
We can live while we’re alive  
  
Or we can die_  
  
He slowed his voice so the change between pre-chorus and chorus would be more dramatic. On the last line, the unmistakable clearness of the melody came in to Noah’s left. He was grinning into the microphone as he spun of his heel to face Adam. His head was down, concentrating on the strings, but the ghost of a matching grin played on his lips. The audience clapped and ooohed more. Adam’s clothes had also been replaced with fancy clothes, a simple but beautiful bottle green suit.  
  
Before he could start on the chorus, Gansey poofed into being on his right side, piano keys filling the space. Noah didn’t know how they’d all come back, or where the snappy clothes had come from, or where Ronan was, but his heart was bursting with joy because _at least_ they were here. They were performing one last time before the phantoms moved on to the after-afterlife.  
  
 _Come inside, twist the knife  
  
Like its something to do  
  
I’m a voluntary victim  
  
Watch your colonial tongue,  
  
I’ll watch you tighten the noose  
  
I’m burning in your mad IQ  
  
I’m burning in your mad IQ  
  
_Ronan flickered into life –death- next to Adam. And _flickered_ was definitely the right way too describe it, because Ronan looked like he was actually a hologram, flickering in and out in bright flashes of light. His whole body shuddered. Adam stopped playing to put a hand on Ronan’s arm. It took a second, but he solidified into being, fingers already moving deftly over the bass strings. Adam resumed playing after a worried look in Ronan’s direction. Ronan was also all dressed up, for him anyway. He had a simple black t-shirt under a blazer jacket and suit pants on, but his stompy boots had been left as they were.  
  
Noah was so happy he could die – his phantoms, his fancily dressed phantoms were here with him for a last performance. Adam had wrapped his tie around the strap of his guitar to get it out the way. Gansey, who looked like a democratic senator in his suit, sung the back-in vocals into his microphone. Noah went up to join him, offering his own microphone so that they could sing into the same one.  
  
 _Oh the apocalypse is coming  
  
Don’t you lose all your control  
  
‘Cause you can’t get into heaven  
  
If you haven’t got a soul  
  
_Some of these lyrics, Noah thought, were a bit on the nose. Maybe Blue had done the right thing, making the lyrics about death and everything, because people wouldn’t expect actual ghosts to write about such specific things as not getting into heaven if you haven’t got a soul. Noah _knew_ Blue channelled her fears about passing on into her song writing, and maybe that was a good thing.  
  
 _You can never, ever stop me  
  
If you’re sick or your obscene  
  
You can bend or you can break  
  
But they’ll replace you with machines  
  
_Noah bounced around the stage, singing with Ronan and Adam and Gansey, grinning at Blue and the crowd. Blue sang into her own microphone, on that was positioned over her drumkit especially for her. Noah had never felt more alive, which was certainly _something_ given how nervous he was beforehand.   
  
_Come inside, twist the knife  
  
Like its something to do  
  
I’m a voluntary victim  
  
Watch your colonial tongue  
  
I’ll watch you tighten the noose  
  
I’m burning in your Mad IQ  
  
I’m burning in your mad IQ_  
  
Noah slid his microphone into his own stand, because the bridge was for Ronan to sing. It had actually taken Blue a while to convince Ronan to sing more than basic back-in vocals, but Ronan had taken one look at her pleading face after studying the words, let out a long exhale and agreed. The bridge was slow enough that Ronan didn’t have to concentrate as much on his bass line, giving him no excuse not to sing.  
  
 _Paralyzed by the sum of your parts  
  
And oh, oh abstract with a human heart  
  
Captivated but I’m so confused  
  
And oh, oh burning up in your mad IQ_  
  
He trailed off into a high note, and Noah launched into the chorus again. Ronan stepped back from his microphone, head already bent toward his guitar. Adam was grinning at him. Ronan’s lips said something that Noah couldn’t hear but most likely was a curse.   
  
_Come inside, twist the knife  
  
Like its something to do  
  
I’m a voluntary victim  
  
Watch your colonial tongue  
  
I’ll watch you tighten the noose  
  
I’m burning in your mad IQ_  
  
Blue drum’s had stopped. She echoed his last words back to him. One by one, the instrument pittered out. When Noah looked back, each one of his friends had a microphone in their hands. Blue and Gansey had stood up. They all joined hands, Ronan with Adam; Adam with Blue; Blue hovered her hand over Noah’s, unable to touch him; Gansey did the same on Noah’s other side. When they sung the outro, they did it together.  
  
 _I’m burning in your mad IQ  
  
I’m burning in your mad IQ_

They took a bow. When Noah straightened up, he was alone with just an empty microphone stand on stage, and he couldn’t stop the tears that welled in his eyes.  
  
___  
  
Noah didn’t turn the studio lights on. He didn’t need to. He was only going to be in here a minute, to say goodbye to empty air.  
  
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Look, I don’t know if you guys can hear me, but I just wanted to say thanks. I, uh, don’t think I would’ve sung again if I hadn’t accidentally summoned you guys. Um, tonight was the happiest I’ve felt in a while. So yeah, thanks.” He scratched the back of his neck.  
  
“Well, gee, happy to help.” said a gruff voice from the darkness.  
  
With a yelp, Noah scrambled for the light switch as Blue’s voice said. “What the hell, Ronan?”  
  
Light flooded the room, illuminating Gansey, Ronan, Adam and Blue sprawled all over each other on the floor. Gansey was already getting to his feet, dusting off the lapels of his suit jacket. Noah was already crying, he could feel the hot tear tracks running down his face, but he couldn’t help it as he run forward and flung his arms around Gansey, forgetting temporarily that he couldn’t even link pinkies with his friends, let alone hug them.  
  
He collided with something solid. Gansey startled but settled his hands on Noah’s back. He _settled his hands on Noah’s back_. Noah could feel the heat of Gansey’s palms through the fabric of his shirt. He looked up to Gansey’s shocked, watery from the tears in his eyes. He laughed. “I can hug you!”  
  
“You can hug him.” Blue looked dumbstruck. Then, she took Ronan and Adam by the sleeves and dragged them over to where Noah and Gansey were. “Band hug.”   
  
Ronan groaned, but didn’t object as Noah flung his arms around his shoulders, meeting skin and sharp bones. Noah laughed some more as he hugged his other arm around Blue’s shoulders. Her skin was soft. Noah let his head fall to his chest.  
  
A soft glow seemed to be emanating from his friends. When he looked up, he found that they were all _actually glowing_.   
  
“What the fuck is this?” Ronan ground out, flipping over his left arm so that it was palm-up. The glow seemed to be radiating from a little circle on is wrist. Blue flipped her arm over to match Ronan’s. So did Adam and Gansey. Together, a little purple lifted off their wrists, coming from _under_ their skin.   
  
Adam let out a surprised little laugh and pulled them all closer by the back of their necks. Ronan knocked his head into Gansey. “Ow.”   
  
Gansey chuckled and pressed his forehead to Blue’s.  
  
Noah finally asked, after a few minutes of them standing there, “What does this mean?”  
  
Adam answered. “I have no idea.”


End file.
